


Orderly Houses

by Vyc



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Competition, Conversation, F/M, Overworking, Romance, Self-Improvement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 07:30:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2261145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vyc/pseuds/Vyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Herc thanks Carolyn needs to learn to relax. Carolyn disagrees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orderly Houses

**Author's Note:**

> So this one came about by accident. I was looking to write a bit of scene-setting dialogue before another fic (which I have yet to get down on paper) when it, er, turned into something important enough to merit being its own piece.
> 
> Thank you very much to Mars once again for a delightful beta! I very much encourage checking out [her fics](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeonmars) if you're into awesome writing. ♥

". . . And so we finally located the last of the stag do going 'round and 'round on the baggage carousel. Douglas managed to talk airport security into handing him over to our custody, and we were off only fifteen minutes behind schedule."

"Congratulations," Herc replied, with sincerity so plain that even someone as suspicious as Carolyn could find no fault with it. "Now, I believe it's time to talk about something else."

Her frown, which had begun to lift at the conclusion of her story, came crashing down all over again. "Why? What's wrong with what we're talking about now?"

"Nothing. Hearing about MJN is never dull." He sat forward in his chair in the very nice, very nearly vegetarian restaurant he'd managed to wheedle Carolyn into. "But it's all you ever talk about."

"It isn't—we talk about how boring the opera is, or the foolishness of your vegetarianism."

He kept his expression open. The slightest compression of lips or lowering of brows would be read as a show of weakness and he couldn't afford that at this important juncture.

"Let me amend my statement: all we ever do is talk about work or argue. Don't you think it's time we expanded our horizons?"

Her expression didn't lighten. "To include what?"

"Hobbies, books you've read, films you've seen. Your plans for the summer, that sort of thing."

She levelled a particularly sharp look at him. "My plans for the summer are to ensure MJN doesn't fold, get sued, or lose its aeroplane. If I'm very lucky and I have time left over, I might, just possibly, see about making a profit."

"My point exactly. Don't you do anything to relax?"

Carolyn drew herself up. "Of course I do. Don't be ridiculous."

"What sorts of things do you do, then?"

"Well—I walk the dog."

"Yes, your noble hound."

"Shut up."

"What else do you do?"

"I read, sometimes, and. . . ."

"And?"

"And—and I don't need to justify how I spend my time to anyone, least of all you!"

He held up his hands to ward off her glare. "Quite right you don't. I was simply curious."

She settled, slightly, until she was no longer sitting so painfully straight. "I suppose you have your time all sorted, O Guru of Work-Life Balance."

She was on the offensive now; he'd pushed her. "I wouldn't go that far. But I do know how to relax."

" _Do_ you? So what do you do?"

"Why, I go to the opera, of course."

She gave him a look that suggested he was being purposefully obtuse—which, to be fair, he was.

"And I eat out, and I go for the occasional day trip in my car."

"And?"

"And . . . that's it, really. Sometimes I'll play a few rounds of golf. You don't fly for Air Caledonia without taking advantage of being in the birthplace of the sport."

He could tell he'd lost ground and that his original point had been compromised. But it wasn't until Carolyn had raised her chin that he knew he had lost.

"And what are _your_ plans for the summer, might I ask?"

He could have hedged. Carolyn, however, was much too smart for him to have any chance of success. ". . . I suppose I'll be flying for Air Caledonia. I haven't put in for any vacation time."

"Ah hah!" Her eyes were bright. "You really should get your own house in order, Hercules, before you start going on about the state of mine."

She looked so lovely in that moment, he couldn't help himself: he dared to cover her hand on the table with his.

"Perhaps we might make a go of putting both our houses in order together.”

Her hand tensed beneath his and she began to draw back, so he added, "It'll be like going to the gym. It's always easier to make changes when you have someone else to compete with."

She stopped. He held his breath.

"You're assuming I _want_ to make changes to my life," she said. Her expression was no longer triumphant and there was an odd sort of care in her voice.

Of course he pretended not to notice. There were no other options. "So I win? Jolly good."

"I know what you're doing," she accused, vulnerability abruptly left in the dust. "You're trying to use your little competition against me when I haven't even agreed to it."

"Of course I am. Is it working?"

"No, it is not!" She pulled her hand free as their server came to collect their plates. "But, just so it's absolutely clear: I would win."

"Oh, I doubt that."

"I would! I would destroy you."

His response was the charming smile he'd perfected over forty years, give or take. Carolyn rolled her eyes and his smile grew into a grin.

He'd coax Carolyn into relaxing yet. Though she did have a point: before he could start giving out lectures about the state of her life, he ought to have a good, hard look at his. Once he'd dropped Carolyn home, he was due for a long think. And, hopefully, by the end of their home repair, they'd both be happier and healthier, with Carolyn delighting in being just a little happier and a little healthier than him.

This was one competition he didn't mind losing.


End file.
